


What You Want [Rafael Barba]

by law_nerd105



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Drinking, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, F/M, Feels, First Meetings, One Night Stands, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25729003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/law_nerd105/pseuds/law_nerd105
Summary: Black, three - piece suit. Classic red tie. Sleeked back hair and bold green eyes.A.D.A. Rafael Barba was the full package. What kind of woman wouldn't fall head over heels for him within an instant of meeting him?Which is exactly what you did. New to the building, you risked creating awkward by passings in the hallways if only for the best night of your life. And he seemed like he didn't mind risking it either.That is, until you start your new job. And suddenly, avoiding each other seems like it's going to be a lot harder than you thought it would be.DISCONTINUED - WILL NOT BE UPDATED
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Reader, Rafael Barba/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	1. New In Town

I slammed the door shut behind the last mover. The annoyance was itching on my skin like a rash that's been bothering for the past five hours. It took a team of movers five hours to move the little furniture, that I brought with me, from the truck to the third floor. It really shouldn't have been as hard as they were making it look. Antonio and I would have been able to do it, all on our own, in half the time if we wanted to.

Speaking of Antonio, he emerged from my bedroom, dangling a pair of lacy, black panties from his forefinger.

"When did you get these?" he chuckled, flinging me the lace as if it were a rubber band. I groaned, catching it and stuffing it into my back pocket.

"I have a life outside of work too, you know?" Antonio burst out laughing, shaking his head in, what could only be described as, disbelief.

"I wonder why I find that so hard to believe."

I lamely rolled my eyes while he continued to snoop around my new condo, nitpicking at the little things. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against my kitchen counter as I watched him.

"Antonio Dawson, are you stalling?' I playfully demanded. He scoffed, keeping his eyes away from mine.

"No, I'm not," I smiled at his failed attempt at a lie. I crossed the room towards him, stopping right in front of him. He looked down at me reluctantly and sighed. "I'm going to miss you, Kid," he muttered, it was barely audible.

"I know," I pulled him into my arms and grabbed onto him as if to hold on for dear life. He clutched onto the back of my shirt, holding me tightly against him.

"I'm going to miss you too," I mumbled into his chest.

He pulled away, coughing to clear his own unease.

"I should get going, the last flight to Chicago leaves in an hour," he grinned and looked at me hopefully. "Unless I could stay until next week? This is a big place," I scoffed, placing my hand on his bicep and urging him towards the door.

"I'll visit Chicago when I can. And you guys are always welcome here," he shook his head, still grinning widely.

"If I'm ever going to announce that I'm coming to visit you. You'd have the whole team, and the entire firehouse fifty - one on your doorstep, with bags, expecting dinner," I smiled.

"Well, then, you might as well invite the rest of Chicago along with them. I could cook for them too," Antonio made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a groan.

"God, I'm going to miss your cooking. And your baking. And everything else. God, I'm going to miss you," he pulled me back into his arms before I even had a chance to say anything about it.

For a while, we just stood in the doorway, holding on to each other. Both of us were too scared to actually let go. I was losing a great partner because of this move. I was leaving a great family behind there in Chicago.

"You should get going," I murmured, deciding to pull away from him, to keep from shedding any tears in front of him. He only nodded.

"I'll miss you, Kid. Intelligence isn't going to be the same without you."

"I'll miss you too. And New York is going to be so boring without you."

He left then, smiling.

Closing the door behind my closest friend, and my oldest partner, I couldn't help but feel horrible. As if the world was weighing on my shoulders.

I hadn't chosen to transfer from Chicago. The big man upstairs made that decision for me all on his own. Voight had pulled all the strings he possibly could, so that, instead of being stripped of my badge and gun, I would just be transferred here. To Manhattan.

Granted, this city differed immensely from Chicago. But, I suppose that beggars can't be choosers. I was lucky my gun was still resting on my hip and not laying in a gun locker somewhere in Chicago collecting dust.

Manhattan Special Victims Unit.

How exciting.

I had worked with rapists on a few occasions before, but never in depth, really. The rapist was usually an accidental find while we were working on another case, and he was then handed off to another unit. So, I had little experience with rapists. But, Voight had assured me that Lieutenant Benson, of SVU, was good police. He had told me long ago, and he had told me again when I said my final goodbye to him.

"Listen, (Y/L/N). Benson is good police. But she's by the books. She runs her unit a lot different from the way I run mine," his voice was hoarse, more than usual. He'd been doing a lot of yelling the past week.

"What do you mean, Serge?" he shoved his hands into the pockets of his brown, leather jacket.

"I mean, don't go around beating people up. Whether it be inside of work or outside. She could take your badge for it."

"Sounds like a pretty boring unit to me," Voight laughed at my grumble of words, throwing his one arm around my shoulders and leading us out of the precinct.

So, I knew what not to do. In a very simplified version of context, don't do what you would do in Intelligence. It sounded simple enough. But, the thought of not beating up sickening rapists, already seemed near impossible.

But, I'd have to learn how to deal with it. Keep your fists to yourself.

I've admired Lieutenant Benson's work from afar the few times an article on her work came in front of my eyes. And I'd be good with victims as well, it was the whole reason I went to the academy. To help people. But, Voight had molded me. And Voight had molded me into a cop that would clip off her badge and gun and say "Do I look like a cop to you? Hit me!"

All I hoped was that I wasn't going to get partnered with some goody two - shoes that would report me if I slipped up somewhere. That was honestly the last thing I needed.

I leaned back against the closed door, letting my eyes run across my new condo. For the life of me, I'd never be able to afford this place on my salary. Not in this life time, or the next. This was doctor money, lawyer money. Not cop money. No, Dear Old Dad up in Memphis payed for this little place.

Most children would be ecstatic if their parents would pay off a condo like this for them. Most parents would do it out of love and a need to provide for their children.My father, did it as a big, grand 'fuck you' to my mother, in Baltimore. They've been divorced for over twenty years, and they still hadn't gotten past their problems with each other.

My mother is still a housewife, but now, she's remarried and living in Baltimore. My father is still the CEO of his big law firm there in Memphis.

My mother resented me for a while when I enrolled in the police academy, she insisted I wasn't going to make a living off of it. My father, in fact, encouraged me. My sister would take over the firm if time came, so there was no reason for him to resent me.

So, Dear Old Dad bought me this condo to prove to my mother that I could live off of a cop's salary. Not that this was proving his point. But, I wasn't exactly going to correct him.

I realised on my way into the building the first time around, that I was going to need to drive down town if I wanted to do any shopping. The places surrounding the building were going to leave me broke if I shopped there the way I needed to down town.

I sighed, pushing myself off of the door and walking into the kitchen. I unclipped my gun, storing it in the kitchen drawer. It wasn't being cautious, but it would need to do until I could have a safe of some sort put into the bedroom.

I was starving. I hadn't eaten properly the last few days. It's been wild. I needed to hand off all of my paperwork, fly in and out of Chicago to make sure things were going smoothly with the condo and, I had one hell of a week saying goodbye to everyone in Chicago. It kind of killed my apatite.

And of course, the cabinets were as bare as an orphanage's. No point in trying to make something if I didn't have anything to make it with.

Instead of going down town to do the very needed grocery shopping that needed to be done, and instead of going through the labour of researching delivery places nearby for the next half an hour, I made my way across the hall. Someone in this building had to know where I could get a decent meal right now.

It wasn't that late, it was just past seven, but this place was dead quiet. My old apartment building would've been buzzing with chatter in the hallways and some high college students playing bad rock music. I'm talking NickleBack bad.

I smoothed the small loose hairs, that had escaped my ponytail, back and made my way across the hallway. I decided to be lazy, and knocked on the door right across from my own.

"He's not in there," a soothing, male voice sounded from my left. I shot my head in his direction.

"How would you know?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at the slightly taller man. I couldn't help noticing the cocky grin on his lips.

"Because he's standing right here," he leaned against the wall beside the doorframe, forcing me to take a step back to be able to look up at him.

"Oh," oh.

"Can I help you?" he asked, jingling his bundle of keys in between his long, slim fingers. I would not mind living across the hall from Mister Three - piece suit over here. I felt a blush creep up to paint my cheeks, something that never happened.

"Ugh... I'm new to the city, I just moved in across the hall," I pointed back to my closed, front door. "I'm looking for a place that has decent takeout and does delivery," the suited man chuckled, unlocking his door.

"Well, you came to the right place. I've been living off of takeout for the last fifteen years of my life," I smiled thankfully as he led me inside of his condo.

My eyes roamed around his condo while he set his things down. His condo was a similar size and layout to mine, but he had decorated it so differently that it looked nothing alike to mine at all.

His living room walls were covered by bookshelves that were lined together, holding leather bound books. His condo smelled faintly of coffee beans and freshly printed papers.

I glanced down the hallway that was supposed to lead to his bedroom. The door was shut, but I hoped that I would catch a glimps of his room later on in the evening.

"Here we go," his voice drew my eyes back to where he was standing in the kitchen. A pile of takeout menus were placed accordingly on the counter in front of him.

"You really weren't kidding," I noted with a sly smirk as I walked towards him.

"Pick your poison," he joked.

He then went on to asking me what I was in the mood for, and then pointing out which place made the best version of the dish that I wanted. He then explained the rest of the menus. Which of those restaurants he found to be the best and what their best dish was.

"I never caught your name," I stated, pulling out my phone and holding it to my ear after I dialed the number to one of the Cuban restaurants he had convinced me to try.

"Rafael Barba," we were both leaning over his counter with our arms flattened on it, but he extended his hand, nonetheless, and I shook it.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," I answered with a bright smile. Then, a woman on the other end of the line answered, sounding far to cheerful for it to sound even remotely believable.

"Hey, yes. I would like a portion of your chicken and rice," I waited as she repeated the order and asked if I wanted anything else. "Yes, I would also like the... Ropa Vieja," Rafael flat out laughed, loudly, at my horrible mispronunciation of the word, and I threw him with one of the menus. "I'll pay at the door, yes. Denver Lane, Rodshire building, apartment C - five, yes. Thank you. You too," I killed the line and slid my phone back into my back pocket.

"When exactly did you move in with me?" he asked with a wicked smirk. His eyes holding a playful glint.

"Since I ordered you Ropa Vieja," I made absurd motions with my hands to accommodate my terrible pronunciation, and Rafael burst out laughing again.

"You're pronouncing it wrong. It's Ropa Vieja," he pronounced it with more of an accent, and it came out roe-pa vee-gah. If that makes sense.

"Oh, so what? You're Latino?" I purred the word in the worst Spanish accent, leaning towards him. He turned around so that he could lean with his back against the counter as he shook his head.

"I'm Cuban, but sure. Whatever makes you happy," I chuckled, moving to take a stance next to him in the same position he was. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked, straightening away from the counter.

"Depends, is it going to be a mojito and are there going to be Cuban cigars afterwards?" he shook his head again, leaning up and reaching for his top cabinet, then retrieved a bottle from the top shelf.

"I have Scotch and cigarettes. I don't know you well enough to share my Cuban cigars with you," I snorted at his playful glare on me. I rose my hands in 'defeat'.

"I have to admit, I didn't peg you to be a smoker," I commented as he poured us both a glass of the amber liqueur.

"Stress smoker, I try not to. I once burned a hole into a new suit with a Cuban cigar. God have mercy on whoever overheard that fit of curses."

I chuckled, sipping at the glass that had been handed to me. This was shifting out to be a much better night than I had originally thought it would've been.

A few hours, and a full bottle of Scotch later, and we were sitting on his couch. Well, he was sitting on the couch. I was straddling his lap, grinding down on him.

The takeout containers were scattered on the coffee table, half eaten and long forgotten.

It started off innocently enough. A little touch on the thigh here, an arm brush there. And soon after, it had evolved into a sinful, messy make out session.

My arms were slung around his neck, his fingers were digging into the skin of my thighs, hard enough that I knew there would bruises tomorrow.

Our mouths were on each other, hot and heavy. It was a war of tongue and teeth, and no one was winning. And no one cared.


	2. Eventful Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black, three - piece suit. Classic red tie. Sleeked back hair and bold green eyes.
> 
> A.D.A. Rafael Barba was the full package. What kind of woman wouldn't fall head over heels for him within an instant of meeting him?
> 
> Which is exactly what you did. New to the building, you risked creating awkward by passings in the hallways if only for the best night of your life. And he seemed like he didn't mind risking it either.
> 
> That is, until you start your new job. And suddenly, avoiding each other seems like it's going to be a lot harder than you thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way too long to finish. And for that, I am truely sorry. I really hope it was worth the wait.

My legs were secured tightly around his torso as he stumbled around his condo to reach his bedroom. Halfway through, he decided to pin me up against the hallway wall.

His lower half pressed into me, keeping me against the wall so that he could pin my hands beside my head with the both of his hands wrapped tightly around my wrists.

I moaned into his open mouth when he started to roll his hips into mine again. Our clothing created for a delicious friction. He was already painfully hard and I was already throbbing in desperation.

For a while, that was the moment. Panting, moaning, cursing and dry humping against the wall in the hallway leading towards his bedroom. That is, until he decided enough was enough.

He dropped me to the ground and dragged me into his bedroom. I had to force my legs to move so suddenly. I almost stumbled onto him.

He frantically threw me down on his bed and started to undress himself, trying to also simultaneously watch as I tried to pull my clothes off as well. He watched me with hungry eyes that raked over my body as I tossed my clothes somewhere in his room.

When he settled over me again, his nose was almost against mine. It allowed me to take in every detail of him. From his lust blown pupils and dark, dull green eyes, to the frown lines on his forehead.

His hot breath blew onto my lips as he prolonged the moment before he would kiss me again. His eyes searched mine for any sign of hesitation.

"Are you sure about this?" he swallowed.

I didn't really know if I was. But I was buzzing with alcohol and desire. So, the choice to back down and leave seemed far from my mind.

I lamely nodded.

"Yes."

His hands were everywhere all at once. Pinching my nipples, squeezing my throat, tugging at my hair, skimming over every inch of skin he could reach. Like a teenage boy that finally got to third base. It was all eager hands and desperate lips. It could be blamed on either the passion or the alcohol. In that moment, I'd like to think it was the passion.

When my eyes fluttered closed, his lips eased onto mine. It was hot and messy, but slow. It allowed me to truly feel him. His tongue moved lazily to stroke my own. I gasped when his warm hands slid down between our bodies to part my legs further.

He bent my knees and spread my legs so that he could settle between them. Nothing was between us now, now barriers to keep him from me.

His left hand reached up to grab at my breast, pinching and tugging at my nipple. I arched my back into him, waiting for him to fill me.

"Please," was all I could muster, I sounded pathetic. I knew that.

"Paciencia, Pequeña," he mumbled and I let out a string of loud gasps and moans, all bunched into one sound when his right hand slid down to rub gently at my clit. Teasingly. Tears of frustration were practically already streaming down my cheeks as I continued to buck up into him, silently pleading for more.

"Please, more, please," I begged now, the speed of the tantalising circles he drew on my clit started to increase. I was dangling on the edge, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip in restraint.

"¿Crees que podrías manejarme, Princesa?" I couldn't help the groan that slipped past my lips. I had no clue what he was saying, but the way he said it made me want to clench my thighs together. He removed his fingers all together, and a broken cry followed the moan I let out.

He leaned over and searched for something in his nightstand drawer. I was in such a daze, I barely noticed how he rolled a condom on over his length.

He reached his hand up to wrap around my throat, squeezing, when he settled over me properly again. He didn't squeeze too tightly, but he did squeeze hard enough to make me arch my back and let my eyes roll to the back of my head.

Rafael teasingly slid his length over my wetness, leaning down to kiss at my jawline with a gentleness that contrasted thickly with the entire situation.

"You're a tease," I spat, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from actually screaming out in frustration. I felt his breath on my ear.

"I know," was all he whispered before he slowly slid into me, a grin on his lips as he made a show of moaning loudly in my ear. A short scream came from me, one I didn't know was coming until it was already out. I gathered all the energy I could possibly muster, and moved to wrap my legs around his torso, pinching my eyes closed to try and adjust to his length.

"Are you good?" he mumbled into the skin of my neck, lazily nipping at the skin there. I nodded lamely.

"Yeah," then he pushed in even further and I grabbed at his hips with a hiss, digging my nails into his sides. "Shit. I just thought you were being cocky," I gasped.

The deep chuckle he gave, told me that he was enjoying himself. He placed his free hand on my hip and started moving.

I let out a long moan when I felt him moving, starting to set a pace that kept building up faster and harder. I could feel him deep inside of me.

Rafael leaned his head down to suck at the skin of my breasts, suddenly remembering his hold on my neck and squeezing tightly for a few seconds. I bucked my hips up into him to try to meet him thrust for thrust.

"Fuck," he panted into the curve of my neck, now sucking there. His hand on my neck slithered down to grope my breast, pressing hard as his pace quickened. His hand on my hip fell down to my clit, rubbing circles.

"Ah!" I gasped out, moving my hand down to urge him to press his thumb down harder on my clit. He obeyed my silent request, pressing harder and moving his circles in time with his thrusts.

His mouth blindly searched for mine, landing on my lips and dragging a short yelp from me when he bit into my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

I threw my arms around his back, clawing at his shoulder blades as he drove into me.

His mouth closed around my nipple and he started sucking, letting his tongue roll across it, biting teasingly.

He laid his cheek against my shoulder, moaning in my ear again as his thrust slowed so that he could push deeper into me, reaching places I didn't even know existed. I dug my shoulders into the bed and arched my back into him, feeling how my neck was starting to cramp.

Both his hands settled firmly on my hips, thrusting my hips up into him. He started sucking on my neck, moving from below my ear to the tip of my shoulder.

His one hand slid up and started fondling with my breast again. That's what put me on edge. I moaned loudly.

"I'm so close," it almost sounded like a sob to me. The chuckle in my ear told me he had heard it that way as well. His other hand started rubbing at my clit again, building up to a much faster and harder pace than before that had my thighs shaking and my whole body begging for release.

"Come for me, Princesa," he grunted in my ear. His thrusts went frantic, he was chasing his own release, panting into my ear.

A tightness settled in my chest as I let out a long groan, coming on him with a sigh, panting. I shook with the force of my orgasm. He buried himself to the hilt inside of me and stilled, releasing himself into the condom, making an animalistic groan that had me throbbing all over again and sending shivers down my bare body.

I whined when he pulled out of me and collapsed at my side. I slung my arm over my eyes, breathing fast and heavy as I tried to calm down the racing of my heart and the thudding in my ears.

The room was filled with, what could only he described as, sex. We were panting, both of us were tangled in his bed sheets, staring up at the ceiling, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Christ," I was first to mutter, completely out of breath. Sweat clung to my body, I was still shaking with the after effects of my orgasm.

Rafael chuckled beside me.

"Yeah," he breathed. He groaned as he dragged himself out of his bed and moved to his bathroom to dispose of the condom, but shutting the door behind him.

I still stared blankly up at the ceiling. I don't know if I was fucked sober, or something, but the reality of the whole situation was starting to wash over me.

I didn't know him. And this probably wouldn't happen again. I tried to pin point the moment when we started making out on his couch like horny teenagers, but it failed to come to memory.

I heard the shower water start running and I closed my eyes, heaving a sigh.

Rafael was a good looking man. He was mature, but at ease. He was intelligent, but comfortable to be around. And he was great at sex. But none of that was a sufficient enough foundation for any kind of relationship.

I had two options. I could take the risk, and join him in the shower and see how he reacts, maybe we would cuddle in bed and go out for coffee the next morning. Or, I could face the fact that this was meant to be nothing more than a one time thing, and I could leave like a coward, but leave knowing I still had my pride.

My pride won.

I winced when I stood from the bed. My thighs were shaking from the sudden movement. I tried to balance myself on my feet before daring to move another step.

I canvassed the room for my clothes, getting dressed as fast as I could manage to. I certified that I had everything I came with, scurrying around the living room as well to be certain. There would be nothing worse than if I forgot something at his condo.

My thighs were still shaking, and I hated that he would be a reminder of this mistake for the rest of tomorrow. The bruises on my neck and hips certainly wouldn't help the matter either.

I stumbled my way out of his condo, daring to do the walk of shame. My black bra and panties were clutched tightly in my hand, the rest of my belongings were stuffed into the pockets of my jeans.

I must've looked like mess. I felt like a mess, in all honesty. It wasn't even the morning after yet, and I already felt cheap.

I leaned against the door of my condo as I fumbled with my keys, taking comfort in the coldness it provided. My whole body was blazing, and on fire.

After dropping my keys twice, and struggling to find the lock for a few minutes, I finally managed to unlock the door and swing it open.

My feet were aching for a reason I couldn't name. My thighs were aching for a reason I didn't want to name. And the cramping in my neck had increased.

I tripped over two or three boxes that still needed to be unpacked, and bumped into the kitchen counter and the door frame of my bedroom door, on my way to my bed.

I knew I should've taken a shower, but that idea never came to mind. I tossed my belongings to the floor and collided with my bed in one not so fluent movement.

I was thoroughly fucked and thoroughly tired. My tipsy faze was wearing off. My mind was starting to clear. And I was starting to regret how the night had played out.

I mean, what was the protocol for sleeping with someone that lived across the hall from you? Does everyone silently agree to never speak again? And will it now forever be awkward hallway greetings and run ins?

Damn me and damn expensive Scotch.


	3. Working Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black, three - piece suit. Classic red tie. Sleeked back hair and bold green eyes.
> 
> A.D.A. Rafael Barba was the full package. What kind of woman wouldn't fall head over heels for him within an instant of meeting him?
> 
> Which is exactly what you did. New to the building, you risked creating awkward by passings in the hallways if only for the best night of your life. And he seemed like he didn't mind risking it either.
> 
> That is, until you start your new job. And suddenly, avoiding each other seems like it's going to be a lot harder than you thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Gracelessly bangs head against table *

I woke to the sound of voices coming from my living room. I instinctively reached for my gun on my nightstand, but quickly remembered that I had left it in the kitchen drawer last night.

I rolled over in my bed and hit the floor with a loud thud and a muffled groan. Dragging the sheets, that were tangling my legs together, with me.

I rolled onto my back and kicked at the sheets until my feet were free from the knots.

Realising that no one had barged into my room and tried to kill me yet, I shuffled my feet towards the bedroom door and moved out towards the living room.

I tripped over my discarded boots, that were left by the bedroom doorway, but caught myself on the doorframe in the nick of time.

I placed the palm of my hand over my forehead and relished in the coolness it provided. Sighing, I kicked the shoes aside and marched into the living room.

I stared at the television, which was the source of the voices I had been hearing a moment ago. A scene, from some medical drama, was being portrayed on the screen. I could, for the life of me, not remember when or why I had turned the television on.

I turned and gazed around my new living area with tired eyes. There were still a few unpacked boxes scattered around on the floor, and the cabinets were still bare. The growl that came from my stomach, audibly disapproved of that fact.

But it was a much larger space than the apartment I was renting in Chicago. It was also a lot more high brow, which wasn't exactly my taste. I still needed to add my own personal touch to the boring condo.

But that's what my dad paid for. I wasn't trying to be ungrateful, but he really didn't need to get me a condo on the top floor. Actually, I really wish he hadn't, because then I wouldn't have ever met Rafael the way I had. Although I was still debating whether it was a good or a bad thing. At the moment I was leaning towards the ladder.

The twenty - fifth floor, my floor, was mostly unoccupied. There were doors for twelve tenants, but I believed the floor only housed four. Not many could afford the top floor. Me included.

I decided that I would catch a breakfast and a coffee on my way into work, and do my grocery shopping on my way home after work.

I probably should've taken care of that last night, and I was really wishing I had instead. But, there was no going back now.

I locked the door and trudged my way down the hall and to the elevator. An evidence box, that held my personal belongings for work, was tucked under my one arm. I didn't have much in the box. My old case files and such. And of course, two or three framed photos that were taken back in Chicago. One of them was with the firehouse.

Driving to the precinct took a lot longer than I had thought it would. Not only was traffic wild and the drivers retarded, but I must've gone off route at least twice. The streets seemed to confuse me.

I was already missing my comfort and familiarity with Chicago, and it's barely been a day.

But the moment when I really started missing Chicago that morning, was when I tasted the street corner coffee and breakfast. The breakfast could be bad, I could live with a bad breakfast. But the coffee was downright horrible. It tasted like dirt that had been filtered through cold water.

Needless to say, I tossed the cup the minute the first garbage can came into sight. And here I was, thinking that New York would be able to pride itself on its street corner coffee. Clearly not.

The third time I missed Chicago that morning, was when I was talking to the desk Sergeant about where I needed to be. She was far too nice and not nearly sarcastic enough for my liking. Sergeant Platt and her tough - as - nails personality, was usually the highlight of my morning, even though I acted as if I was annoyed by her.

The elevator dinged, declaring my arrival on the tenth floor. I waited until the silver doors were slid apart, and the people that wanted to be on the same floor had shoved passed me, then I made my way to the bullpen.

My eyes scanned the room. Detectives and beat cops were bustling around seeming busy. There was a silent buzz in the air from all the background chatter that surrounded me.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?" I looked over at the woman who had called my name, instantly recognising her as Lieutenant Olivia Benson. I beamed a bright smile and stuck my hand out towards her.

"Yes, it's a pleasure to finally put a name to a face," she gracefully shook my hand, holding a smile of her own.

"I feel the same," I realised then that the eyes of the detectives in the bullpen were on us. All of them neared us and I reached out to shake their hands, trying to remember their names as they gave it to me.

"Congratulations," I smiled at Amanda, indicating at her growing baby bump. She gave me a sweet half - smile.

Fin and Amanda I had met a few years ago, or so, when they came to Chicago working on a case. The other two faces though, were new to me.

The tall, scrawny looking one had quite clearly introduced himself as Dominick Carisi Junior, and stated that I should call him Sonny. And the last one, with the broad shoulders and the dark hair, was Mike.

"Welcome to New York," Mike greeted with a prominent grin.

"Thank you, the coffee's really bad," I spoke with a laugh, earning a few chuckles from the people surrounding me.  
"We try," he joked.

"(Y/L/N), since you get along so well with our new Sergeant, I'll partner the two of you together for now," Olivia stated, patting Mike on the back.

"New Sergeant?" I questioned him, with an eyebrow raised. He nodded and drew his lips into a thin line, as if in restraint.

"At least I'm not the only new guy now," he spoke softer so that only I would be able to hear. I smiled and murmured in agreement to him.

I could still remember my first day at the twenty - first district. Although everyone was very welcoming, I knew that I was still inexperienced. And that created for a long period of unease between me and everyone else. I just hoped it wouldn't be a similar situation this time.

"Right, well, we'll leave you to get settled in then," Olivia parted away from the group and headed into, what I assumed was, her office.

"How's that desk Sergeant of yours doin'?" Amanda asked me with a knowing grin on her mouth. I chuckled, claiming the nearest, open desk for myself.

"Alive and well, she sends her regards. She also sends an inappropriate comment about New York, that I'm not going to repeat," Amanda laughed as she shook her head, leaning her back against my new claimed desk.

"She's really somethin'," I shrugged my one shoulder, but didn't disagree.

I started unpacking the items my box held, placing everything accordingly, while also trying to create a similar look to how my desk was arranged in Chicago.

Mike was standing behind me, leaning over my shoulder, then moving past me to inspect one of the framed photos I had placed by the computer screen.

"The firehouse?" he questioned. I had to force myself to look at the photo. Force myself to look at him again.

"Yup," I answered shortly, then looked away. I hadn't even really looked at the image. I don't know why I kept it around if I never wanted to look at it.

Mike set the photo down where he had found it, then stepped aside.

"Have you worked in sex crimes before?" Amanda asked, crossing her arms over her chest. I tilted my head from left to right in contemplation of the question.

"Not exactly, no. I have some experience working with sexual assault victims, but I haven't worked in the unit, no," I paused, thinking a little further back, then chuckled. "I attended a few seminars in the Academy, does that count?"

Amanda shook her head, a wide grin on her lips.  
"We should get drinks after work, catch up," she offered and I smiled.  
"You sure you could handle something non - alcoholic?" I teased, earning a playful eyeroll. "How close are you to your due date?" I rather asked.

She sighed miserably.  
"'Bout a month," I chuckled.  
"Desk duty?" she gave a nod.  
"Yeah," she replied on a sigh, and I reassuringly rubbed her arm.

"Are you guys working a case?" I looked over my shoulder at Mike when I asked the question, but Amanda was the one to answer anyway.  
"Just finished up the case of a violinist yesterday."

"Oh right, the case with Anton Krasnikov, I was following it on the news. How'd that one go?" I tossed the empty evidence box under my new desk, discarding it for later.

"Messy," was all Amanda said before dragging her feet to her own desk and falling into her chair.

I looked at my desk, smiling in satisfaction at the similarity match between how it looked, and how my desk looked in Chicago.

An easy conversation had settled in the squad room, Mike sitting at his desk across from mine as we spoke about nothing in particular. I suddenly realised how at ease I truly felt, how relaxed I actually was at that moment.

It was nice.

"Where's Liv, I need her to sign off on..."

It was not nice.


End file.
